


Morning Moon, Touch Me

by brennasaur



Series: Morrigan Skyshard [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Budding Love, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Half-Elves, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brennasaur/pseuds/brennasaur
Summary: Morrigan Skyshard enjoys some time away from the Underdark in the mining town of Blingdenstone while growing inexplicably closer to her bard companion, M'akzwehl Edison.
Series: Morrigan Skyshard [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088324
Kudos: 1





	Morning Moon, Touch Me

Arriving in Blingdenstone was the first flash of hope Morrigan had since leaving the Neverlight Grove. It had been a long two months since she and her party were separately captured and subsequently escaped to try and find the surface world before they met an end the likes of the departed Bupido or Eldeth. The memory of her former companions sent a shiver down her spine, but she kept her head held high as they wandered through the city. It was possible that someone here would be able to get them to the surface. Milo and Jimjar seemed pretty certain their connections here would give them an 'in', and Morrigan wasn't going to look this gift horse in the mouth.  
It was a choice of this sprawling civilization or the endless tunnels of the Underdark, and it wouldn't be hard for anyone to guess her preference. One glance at her group revealed that they felt the same way; wonder and awe flashing in most of their eyes. She made a cursory glance towards M'akz, and noticed he looked rather uncomfortable. He gave a shy smile to whoever would look his way, only to have grimaces in response. They seemed to be wary of the half-Drow; his lineage speaking for him before he could make his own impression. Her heart panged for him. Not for the first time, she cursed herself for being so hard on him when they first met. She was sure that the look on her face had been quite similar to those the gnomes were wearing now. She took a deep breath in to avoid making a scene and getting them thrown out after they had just arrived.

As time passed, Morrigan decided she hated Blingdenstone. She hated the tavern wench, Tappy. She hated M'akz sitting so far away. She hated-- well, no, she quite liked the ale. The ale was the only good thing in this place so far. She was drunk, and she was angry. Her own jealousy had surprised her-- and a fear rose like bile in her throat. Did she feel something for the bard? Lost in contemplation, she couldn’t be sure how long she had been sitting next to Gwynt, who encouraged her to get pint after pint, and watching Tappy and M'akz flirt. If she was less drunk, she might listen to the words in her head telling her that she had no reason to be angry. He didn't belong to her.   
She snapped up her walls so tight that her own thoughts didn't even reach her, and when she noticed M'akz retiring to the room they had both agreed to share, she had half a mind to stay right where she was and pout. The drink was making her head swim, though, and all she wanted to do was lay down next to him. No matter how mad she was, she wasn't sure she could sleep without his warmth next to her. Not to mention, despite a lifetime taking solace in the solitude of the night sky, she now feared the dark. 

She sneered at her own weakness and used the anger’s momentum to push herself up from the table. She left Gwynt with his nose buried in a half empty glass and headed up the stairs. She found the room easy enough, hearing the gentle strums of M’akzwehl’s guitar as he tuned it. She had half expected the bard to have been asleep already. Her body betrayed her mind as the familiar sound made her shoulders droop from their tensed position.   
She clenched her jaw and walked in. He grinned brightly at her, as he always did, but she pretended she didn't notice and took in the bed instead. She touched it gingerly, feeling the bounce and the overwhelming softness. It took all she had not to just slam her body into it and pass out. Instead, she peeled off her scale mail shirt and adjusted the rags underneath with a speed fueled by fury. She tossed the armor as far as she could across the room in the direction she could still hear the strumming coming from, and she heard it make contact with the wall. The music stopped, and she whipped her head around to glare at M’akz in the silence, but her balance gave way. She started to fall, but a smooth grey hand caught her elbow, dragging her back upright.

"You okay, love?"

M'akz's concerned gaze infuriated her even more. She shrugged out of his grip.

"Fine."

Her reply was short but heated, and M'akz's eyebrows furrowed. He picked his guitar back up as she settled onto the edge of the bed, testing out its give underneath her weight. She fought the urge to jump on the stupid thing and start bouncing like she did as a child. She waited for the music to pick back up again, and when it didn't, she looked up. M'akz was staring at her; looking like he was trying to make a decision. She didn't like it. She wondered if he was going to ask her to sleep somewhere else so he could invite Tappy upstairs. Her heart tensed up, and she brought her hand to her chest to dull the ache. She needed to get this over with. The quicker he hurt her, the sooner she could stop wondering when it was coming. Being afraid of everything was getting quite old.

"What is it?"

This question lost the biting tone her earlier remark had had, and she hated herself for it. It wavered at the end, and she wondered at the sting behind her eyelids. If she started crying right now, it would add insult to injury. This wasn’t the fighter he had come to know, and she was presently unwilling to let him past that illusion. He gestured to the spot on the foot of the bed beside her, and she nodded before she could even really consider it. He gave her a bit of a wide berth, obviously feeling her reluctance. He jerked his head to the guitar in his hands.

"I've been working on something. Can I show you?"

This was not what she expected. She was speechless for a second, taking him in. He seemed nervous, which did nothing to ease the tension in her chest. She gave her consent so low she wasn't even sure that he heard her; but then the music started. It was a soft, soothing melody- and when she closed her eyes, she could feel the music flow through her veins. She felt a sudden, sharp pain in her chest as the tension crested and overflowed; she almost hadn’t noticed the dulcet tones of his voice had begun to compliment the music. Her name. He was singing her name. She forced her drink-addled brain to focus and opened her eyes to find him staring right at her. The lyrics were hypnotizing; She felt as small as a pebble on a distant lonely shore, eroding under an incessant tide. The vitriolic anger she had built in her mind was dissipating with each strum of his tensely wound string.

Half of what I say is meaningless.   
But I say it just to reach you, Morrigan…

The song wasn’t long; but she held onto each word and note as if she was clinging to the edge of a sheer ravine. She felt that if she let go, she’d fall into a deep expanse of nothingness. When, too soon, the bard’s fingers found rest on the final chord; she inhaled a little too violently, realizing she’d stopped breathing at some point. M'akz put his guitar down and got closer to her, lifting his hand to her face. It was only when she noticed his fingertips coming away from her cheek glistening that she even knew she was crying. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, and she clutched her hands to her breast bone even tighter; not able to look away from the beautiful man in front of her. A distant thought warmed her core-- this was the closest they had ever gotten to each other. The soft sensation of her hair being pushed back behind her ears brought her focus back as M’akz caressed her face playfully.

"Was… was it that bad?" he chuckled, anxiously.

The shriek of nervous laughter escaped her before she could stop it. It surprised them both; and his hands flew off of her at the same time that she reached to grab his. He went rigid and still under her grip, and she placed her hand to his cheek, lightly tracing the lines on his face; studying. She felt a jolt of urgency as she watched his gaze fall to her mouth, and she pulled his face to hers. Their lips touched, and she felt the quickened movement as M’akz gasped in surprise. She seized her opportunity and sent her tongue in hungrily, where it was welcomed hospitably by his. He wasn't taken aback for long; she felt his hands on the back of her head, fingers beginning to knot themselves in her unruly hair. 

By the time that they came up for air they could only stare at each other, stunned. M'akz placed his hands to his lips as a lopsided grin took over half his face. Morrigan felt herself turning red, heat rising from her stomach to her face. She wanted to run. What did she just do? She felt trapped suddenly, and she didn't know what move to make next. Her focus swam, compelling her to lay down. M'akz, as though reading her mind, opened the sheet nearest her, reminding her of all the times they had slept beside each other out in the Underdark. He helped her in, and climbed over her to the other side. He put them back to back, the way they usually slept; but she turned over, slipping an arm around his waist and putting her mouth up to his ear.

"Thank you."

Following this whirlwind of a night, it had been a strange few days. There was some initial awkwardness the morning after the kiss, and it had been enough to catch Quinn's attention. She proposed a relaxing day out trying to find a tattoo artist and piercer for whoever wanted to go. Morrigan thought about skipping, but a cut of the eyes from her tiefling friend made it clear she was expected to stay. M'akz joined too, and the three of them plus Goblet and Gwynt took off into the recesses of Blingdenstone. By the time they had found someone, Morrigan was feeling brave. She pushed ahead of everyone and requested a bar through the tip of one curved ear and subsequently felt woozy. She watched and slowly recovered while the others chose their adornments, feeling accomplished and actually content. M'akz spoke up, and what he said broke her heart.

"Do you have any pictures of the moon?"

She thought of his mother, a human imprisoned by the Drow, then her father, and watched as the gnomish male brought a book down from a shelf. She recognized the looping scrawl at the top as elvish, and she realized that it was a book on astronomy. She wondered how it had ended up here. The gnome flipped through it and stopped on an illustration that filled the page. The phases of the moon were aligned like a stick straight constellation, and M'akz breathed a small sigh.

"I'd like that, please."

After this small moment of respite, things quickly picked up. They had been refused a pathway to the surface due to a lack of trust, and were tasked with some diplomatic duties that might gain them favor, even though they had slain two oozes and saved countless people already. But Morrigan wasn't complaining, at least not quite yet. She missed the action a little, and there was something so wrong and intriguing in this city. She wanted to get to the bottom of it.   
So, she didn't groan when they trekked up to the ruins where the were-rat community was forced to reside. She was disappointed but not surprised to learn there was some entity threatening this place too. It seemed to confirm her fears that bad luck followed her wherever she went. Regardless, she put on her best smile when they revisited the people in power to relay the messages of doom and the hopeful team up of a city divided. She was thrilled when this endeavor was delayed, giving them time to investigate one of the other tasks; this one dealing with mysterious spectres they had been seeing around the city. One had actually gotten so close to M'akz that he stuck his finger through its nose, causing it to disappear. Even with the threat of danger looming, it had caused all of them to fall into fits of laughter. The relief and joy of everyone was overwhelming, so much so it was almost possible to forget how close they were to Menzoberranzan. It was in this vein that the night swiftly dropped in, and Morrigan found herself back above the tavern, too wired to sleep. She felt closer to a way out each and every day. The pressure of the Underdark past the city's walls couldn't reach her here. 

She felt like herself again; before she was captured, before her dad died, before it all. M'akz relished her joy; the two stealing kisses when no one was looking and holding each other long into the night. There was an electricity in the air that felt different tonight, though. M'akz had started tuning his guitar at the foot of the bed, strumming low, vibrating notes that she could feel in her hips. She carefully shed her new shoes, stretched her limbs and leaned back against the far wall, watching M'akz move his lips to some unsung melody. She felt a rush of boldness and moved from her position under the covers, crawling toward him. He looked at her in amusement as he felt the weight shift on the bed, letting her grip his guitar and move it softly aside. He tipped his chin up, expecting a kiss. 

Instead, she pulled him down, relaxing her back against the bed. Before she could overthink it and change her mind, in one swift motion she had both her overshirt and the tattered bits of her prison clothing thrown to the side. He leaned over her and inhaled a surprised breath, and she felt the warmth float across her flushed face when he exhaled, like the wings of a wandering butterfly. His eyes roved over her exposed skin, and she suppressed the urge to shy away. She had never been this vulnerable with anyone. She forced herself to look up at him, watching as he hesitated for a beat before shedding his own tunic. Her hands reached up and touched his chest, the skin rippling under her fingertips like a colt shaking off a troubling horsefly. She traced her hands down the length of his arm, and when she reached his hand, she pulled it to her, but he resisted. His eyes poured into hers, an unspoken question on his lips. A growl rose in her throat.

"Touch me."

And so he did. His hands followed the path his eyes had carved, and she instinctively rose to meet his touch. He put his arms around her bare back and pulled her close, chests connecting, hearts pounding.

"Are you sure?"

She pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, trailing her mouth up until she was close enough to nip at his ear. He let out a soft groan as she giggled her reply.

"I'm sure."

He laughed in return, a high and giddy sound that reverberated through her. The high was infectious, and the two found themselves breathlessly chuckling at each other as they clumsily removed layer after each remaining layer. As they fell, clutching each other tightly, so too did the world fall silent and still.

After; he held her against his chest, humming some long forgotten song that sounded much different than anything she'd heard from him before. She began to ask him what it was, just as a desperate knock sounded from the doorway, followed by Milo's echoing whisper. 

She pretended to be asleep, hoping that M'akz would lie still beside her. Instead, he dutifully heeded the call, pulling on random bits of clothing. The half-drow barely had the door cracked when Milo bowled into the room, brandishing a large dagger. Morrigan’s eyes, having been squinted in faux-unconsciousness, grew as wide as saucers: He is going to hurt M’akz. Luckily, her nakedness caused her just enough hesitation--more from a strategic lack of proper defense than modesty--for her to hear his explanation.

“I found the magic thing that Dunham detected!”

She sighed in relief and settled under the blankets, silently admonishing herself for being untrusting. She heard her b--the bard grab his guitar from the foot of the bed and the pearl necklace she had found while looting off the nightstand and began preparing the ritual spell. She hazarded a peek at the scene unfolding on the bedroom floor. Discordant notes filled the air and Milo began to hop in circles around the bard and began chanting: 

“I-dent-if-y. I-dent-IF-y. I-DENT-IF-Y”

The chords stopped. M’akz shot him an impatient glance, held it, and then threw a knowing smirk in Morrigan’s direction. She melted so quickly into the bed, she began to worry she’d end up stark nude in the bar downstairs, exposed to Gwynt and Dunham as they capped off the night. She recovered as the notes began again-- cleaner this time. She didn’t quite understand what he was doing; but she could sit and listen to him tune his guitar until the day met the night.

Ten or so minutes went by, until finally M’akzwehl put down his guitar and picked up the dagger. She could almost feel Milo preening with excitement from across the room.

“‘S a nice dagger. Does magic damage. Extra slicing power!”

He gingerly tossed the blade to the halfling who deftly caught it, parried into the air, and flipped it a few times in admiration. Milo, seemingly for the first time, took in M’akzwehl’s chaotic dress and looked around the room with interest.

“So...M’akzy boy… You uh… What’s going on?”

“Goodnight, Milo.” Morrigan’s voice was sharp and succinct. Milo was beginning to linger and she had business to attend to.

“Say no more, say no more,” the rogue mumbled as he chuckled his way back out the door.

Makzwehl closed the door softly behind him, then chanced a glance to the bed--their bed. She smiled to herself as she looked at him: tunic askew, pants pulled up far too high, and one sock dangling dangerously off of his foot. The guitar protested lightly as he leaned it casually against the wall on his walk back to the bed. Morrigan sat up to make some room for him, clutching the blanket to her breast nervously. She saw him hesitate as he moved to loosen his trousers, glance at her shyly, think better of it, then began to lay down.

“Wait,” she said; a little sharper than she’d intended.

M’akzwehl gasped in surprise. He had a look of fear on his face like he had offended her.  
The blanket toppled carelessly as she gracefully pulled her legs underneath her, until she was sitting on her knees, her hands landing on her goose-pimpled thighs. His gaze shot to the roof sheepishly. Smiling, she rolled her eyes and shivered; the cool night air only half guilty for the raised bumps on her bare skin. When she had inched her way to his side of the bed, she pulled herself up against his figure--rigid and nervous like a deer catching the scent of a hunter--until her face met his. His eyes remained dutifully averted. His quickened breath tickled against her neck and shoulders as her hands blindly found the knotted tie of his ill-fitting trousers. A throaty, guttural voice she didn’t recognize wriggled its way out of her throat and into the young man’s pointed ears.

“Let me help you with that…”

Tension and pretense fell to the floor alongside the haphazardly shorn clothing as the two orphaned souls wound and unwound themselves; until they were conducting a stringed duet in their lonely room above the emptying tavern. The horrors of the Underdark were banished further and further from their minds with each moan and sigh.

The next morning, Morrigan awoke--just as she had every morning since she had been taken to Velkynvelve--with a terrible weight on her chest. It wasn’t until she tried to sit up that she noticed the mop of white hair comfortably perched atop her bare breasts. M’akzwehl. Her heart flipped, and she clutched the sheet tighter as a terrifying realization dawned. She had let him in. He had gotten past her walls, and nothing had ever frightened her more.


End file.
